


A Choice of One's Own

by MsCaptainWinchester (rons_pigwidgeon)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha John Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Canon-Typical Violence, Kissing, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 09:50:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14913119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rons_pigwidgeon/pseuds/MsCaptainWinchester
Summary: When youngest heir to the throne of the Kingdom of Angels presents as omega, the surrounding kingdoms are eager to offer their best alphas to become his mate, but when the demons do not take kindly to Castiel's rejection, war is declared. To keep him safe while the army is away in battle, the first son and heir of the wolves, Dean Winchester, is assigned as Castiel's bodyguard. Castiel doesn't think he needs a bodyguard, and Dean would much rather be with his warriors, fighting. Will they ever be able to find common ground, and can Dean keep Castiel safe from kidnapping?





	A Choice of One's Own

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written as part of the 2018 Dean/Cas Reverse Bang. All art was created by the lovely and extremely talented [Ddff0111](http://yayeeh1344.tumblr.com), who not only created so much gorgeous art for this fic, but also wrote the original prompt and was integral in plotting the story out. Thank you so much for all your hard work. This fic truly would not have happened without you.
> 
> A big thank you also to my betas, [NadiaHart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadiaHart/) and Shait!

 

"If we're going to war, I should be with you. I'm our best fighter. I should be on the front line," Dean said, slamming his fist against the nearest tree. Splinters of bark went flying, but he was too focused on his father to notice the dent he left.

John pursed his lips, shaking his head. "I'm not sending my heir onto a battlefield to risk being killed by my side. This is as much about protecting our pack's future as it is about the Novak omega."

Dean scoffed at the mention of the youngest Novak heir. He was not looking forward to spending time with the entitled brat. He was the reason they were going to war, after all.

John shot a look over his shoulder at Dean. "Do you question my decisions, boy?"

Dean looked away, off through the trees, willing his cheeks not to burn with embarrassment. "No, sir."

"The last thing we need is the king to think we aren't a unified pack."

"I know that, sir."

"It's better that you stay behind, Dean. What if we lose the war? Who would lead the pack?" Sam reminded him, quickening his stride to catch up with his brother.

Dean shot Sam a look. "We aren't going to lose, Sammy. The demons aren't a match for us."

"But you were just—" Dean's look shut his mouth before he could finish protesting. He scowled and turned his face away, glancing off into the forest to try to hide his frustration, but Dean could see it all over his face. His expression shifted as he spotted something in the distance, and Dean followed his gaze to see a break in the trees, the high walls of the fortress surrounding the palace just beyond them.

A swooping sensation swirled in his stomach. He had only been to the palace once before, accompanying his father to a state dinner celebrating Prince Michael's marriage to Princess Rachel. He had felt judged the entire night by the other guests, well-dressed and far more well-mannered than he could ever hope to be, even if he wished to be anything but himself. He had hated every minute of it. The thought of spending weeks—months, perhaps even years—in the confines of those walls made him feel sick. He tugged at the leather armor his father had insisted he wear and steeled himself for what was to come.

 

Ω

The royal family greeted them with more pomp and circumstance than Dean thought necessary, but he kept his face blank and his hands behind his back to conceal their twitching. He had never seen so many shiny buttons in his life. So many layers of fine fabric embroidered with gold and silver thread. The only fine metals the pack had ever owned was the heavy, jeweled necklace worn by the High Alpha, and even that was only brought out for special occasions. He could see it glinting in the sun on his father's chest just then, resting over the thin leather vest he wore.

Dean pulled on the back of his own deerskin tunic to straighten it, grumbling under his breath about the fit. He much preferred the simple clothing of his people. The leather armor his father had required him to wear to impress the royal family was too stiff, difficult to move in. He had no idea how the other races withstood the constriction.

John approached the palace steps where the royal family fanned out from the king in either direction. Dean only knew a few of them by name and had only set eyes on half their party. Next to the king stood his heir, Crown Prince Michael, tall and groomed to within an inch of his life, his dark hair gleaming in the sunshine. His doublet was covered in so much silver embroidery that Dean wouldn't have been able to guess what color the fabric underneath was if it hadn’t extended to his wide, bellowing sleeves.

Standing next to him was Prince Gabriel, even more adorned in glittering jewels and what looked like birds made of thread. He looked far less attentive than his brother and father, yawning just as Dean's father spoke his greeting. Princess Hannah next to him elbowed him, her mouth pinched tight. A tiny fluff ball of a dog sat at her feet, its stub of a tail wagging behind it as it looked up at her for approval. It raised Dean’s hackles to see the miniscule thing, taunting them with its obedience and eagerness to please. The princess likely thought he would be as easily brought to heel. She was mistaken.

Dean turned his attention away from them, uninterested in the rest of the party as he half-listened to the many pretentious greetings his father exchanged with King Charles. Princess Rachel stood as rigid as a stone pillar next to her father-in-law, her green velvet gown so voluminous, Dean couldn't imagine how she walked in it, let alone climbed all the many steps leading up to the palace.

His eyes fell on the angel standing at the far end, shorter than his brothers, slight and still so very young. Dean didn't have to be told this was his new charge: Castiel, the youngest Novak sibling and newly presented omega. There were two palace guards standing at his back, as though one of the Winchester pack might decide to assault him themselves. The very thought was ridiculous. Even as physically appealing as he was—Dean decided to stop that train of thought before it had a chance to get any further. It didn't matter what the prince looked like. Dean was here to do a job, and nothing more. His mate had already been chosen for him long ago, and even if he were untethered, an angel from the royal family was the last omega he should be considering.

 

He turned his attention back to the king, nodding as he was re-introduced. "Your Majesty."

King Charles smiled at Dean, stepping down to where the Winchester Pack stood and squaring Dean's shoulders in his hands. "I know that you likely wish to go to battle with your pack. Thank you for agreeing to stay behind and keep my son safe. The crown owes you a great debt."

Dean darted a look at the young prince, whose intense gaze was fixed on him unflinchingly, turning back to the king and nodding. "Of course, Your Majesty. I am at your disposal."

King Charles let Dean's shoulders go and turned to John with a warm smile. "We can talk security later. Please, join us in an evening meal. You must all be famished from your long walk to the palace." He swept his hand out towards the palace, waiting for John's agreement before leading the entire party up the dozens of steps to the enormous palace doors and inside.

Dean had hoped to get one more meal in his father's company before he rode out to battle, but alas, he was sat between Princess Hael and Prince Balthazar, neither of whom wished to converse with Dean.

His young charge was sat across from him, but he spoke little, and only when spoken to. Dean didn't miss how often his large eyes fell on Dean himself. Prince Castiel seemed to be studying him, and if the downward quirk of his mouth was anything to go by, Castiel did not approve of his table manners one bit. Dean lifted a quail leg to his mouth and sucked down the mouthful of meat, eyes locked on Castiel's. Castiel turned his eyes away in disgust.

Dean grinned to himself and grabbed his goblet to wash down the over-cooked meat with their fruity, too-sweet alcohol. If the little prince was going to judge his table manners, there was no reason to be on his best behavior. It was the prince's fault he was even there. If the little omega had bothered learning to defend himself properly, none of this would have been necessary.

Dean followed his father to the king's private sitting room after dinner and stood at his father's right shoulder to observe their discussion of plans for the coming weeks and months. Prince Castiel took a seat next to his father, sitting stiffly at the edge of it, his back far too straight to be comfortable. In closer quarters, and without so many people around to cloud his senses, Dean could now easily smell Castiel's new omega scent. It was as sweet as sugared pecans and twice as enticing. Dean had little difficulty in understanding why a foreign king might try to kidnap the prince for himself after only a brief scenting.

"As you know, four nights ago demons from Atreus were sent to capture my son with the intention of forcing him into a mating with the demon king, Crowley. Castiel managed to hold them off long enough to alert his guard, but it was far too close for my comfort, particularly since I will be riding out to war against Crowley in retaliation. Prince Dean, you have my deepest gratitude for your aide in keeping him safe."

Castiel scowled at the words and looked away towards the fire, crossing his arms over his chest, the scent of his frustration thickening in the air. Dean ignored him. If he wanted to pout about having to have a bodyguard, he could save them all the trouble and pick an alpha to mate. "I'll make sure he's safe, Your Majesty."

"Thank you, Dean. I'm sure you and Castiel will get along well."

 _Doubtful_ , Dean thought, even as he smiled at the king. The brat was more likely to treat him like window dressing than try to have a conversation with him. Dean could already tell the prince didn't think he was much better than a guard dog.

Dean tried to pay attention to the rest of the conversation, but it was a blow to his pride to hear their plans for a battle he would not be participating in.

 

Ω

 

Dean could hear the voices well before he reached the corridor leading to Castiel's chambers. The king was calm, his heartbeat a steady rhythm even as his child attempted to argue with him. Castiel's heart was a quick rabbit beat. Dean didn't let himself dwell on how quickly he'd learned to recognize it.

"I don't need a bodyguard, Father. Haven't I proven that I can take care of myself?" Castiel asked, irritation lacing his words.

"You are more than capable of protecting yourself, but even so, blind luck is the only reason you were not taken by Crowley's men the first time. They will try again, and they will be smarter and more difficult to evade a second time. Crowley does not like to be denied the things he wants, and he very much wishes to have you." King Charles' heartbeat quickens at talk of Crowley's men taking his son. With how close they came to succeeding in their first attempt, Dean isn't surprised that the king would be nervous. But Dean takes his duty seriously. No one will touch Castiel while he is alive to protect him.

Castiel scoffs. "I'd like to see him try. Anyone who tries will end up with a sword through the heart for their efforts."

There's the sounds of soft movements, and then, "I have no doubt you will fight like an angry bear should they try again, but I will still feel better having Dean here to protect you. He has senses you do not, and a physical strength you could never hope to develop. Please let him keep you safe for me."

There's a long pause, followed by a loud sigh. "If I must. I still don't think it's necessary."

"Thank you. It's getting late. If you don't wish to yell at me about anything else, I'll take my leave."

Dean could hear a deep sigh, followed by, "Good night, then."

"Good night. I love you, my child." There was the sound of a kiss and shuffling of feet. Dean straightened from where he stood listening a few feet from the door. There was no point pretending he hadn't been eavesdropping. It was now his duty, after all.

King Charles exited the bedroom, but came up short when he spotted Dean, giving him a stilted nod and a soft 'good night' before moving towards his own chambers. Dean caught the ornately carved door just before it closed and slipped inside.

Castiel paused in the act of unbuttoning his outer coat, pale gray and far less adorned than his siblings’ had been. "What are you doing in here?"

Dean crossed his arms over his chest and rested his back against the hard wood of the door. "Guarding you."

Castiel's hands fell away from the buttons of his coat as he advanced on Dean. He looked angry enough to spit. "Why are you inside my bedchamber without my permission?"

Dean shrugged, unconcerned with the anger of a man half his size. "You were almost taken from your bedchamber, were you not?"

Castiel stepped right up to him, still glaring daggers. "Were you planning on doing an inspection of the room? Because I can assure you, the guards did a thorough check of the defenses. They will not find another way in. Kindly leave. You have a bed of your own next door."

"Can't do that, Princess. My hearing's good, but my sense of smell is better, and I can't use it through a wall."

There was a blade at his throat in the space of a blink. "Call me a princess again, and you will be relieved of your duty. Permanently."

Dean grinned, licking his lips. "Little sparrow has talons, huh? Very interesting." The glare that earned him only fueled his amusement. The little omega was no more a threat to him than one of the tiny lapdogs Princess Hannah kept, but he certainly smelled delicious when angry.

The blade nicked him in the chin—sharper than it looked. In a few quick movements, he had the knife out of Castiel's hand and had slipped under Castiel's outstretched arm to step backward into the room. He walked over and placed the knife on the bedside table with a pointed look at his charge. "It won't be enough against a trained kidnapper. And it definitely isn't enough to stop me."

He expected shock, perhaps even a gape-mouthed stare. What he got was righteous indignation and a hand thrust towards the door. "Get out," Castiel snarled through gritted teeth. "I need to get ready for bed, and I am not doing so with a strange alpha in my room. Bodyguard or not."

Dean could see the logic in that. He shrugged and sauntered passed Castiel, barely holding in his smile. He might be able to get through this trying time if he could spend it taunting a spoiled brat of a princeling. He stood outside the door and listened to the prince changing clothes and splashing water on his face. The entire time Castiel muttered to himself, a tapestry of unkind words towards Dean, some of them quite colorful indeed. Dean chuckled to himself as he listened.

When he heard the rustle of fabric, likely the bed linens being moved about as Castiel climbed into bed, he decided to go get a blanket from the bed they'd provided him. He'd only brought a small satchel with him—the pack moved around too much within the forest to bother owning many material possessions—but it appeared a servant had already emptied the contents into the wardrobe. He found his writing utensils laid out on the desk for him already. He didn't give the room more than a cursory glance before tugging the thick upper coverlet off the bed and folding it over his arm to take back to Castiel's room.

The sound of an inner door opening within Castiel’s chambers had his heckles up, and he could wait not any longer for the prince to get settled. He slipped back in through the hall door without bothering to knock to find a servant banking the fire. She looked up at his entrance, startled, before darting a glance at the bed where Castiel sat up against his pillows with his knees pulled up to his chest, piles of blankets covering his lower half. Dean hadn't been paying attention when he first entered the room, but the number of linens piled on the bed seemed excessive even for angel standards.

Dean leant his back against the door again with a nod at the servant. Slowly, she returned to her work. He could feel Castiel's eyes on him, but Dean kept his attention on the servant girl. He said nothing as she completed her tasks and slipped back out through the servant door with a final nervous look back at Dean.

"Is that how they came to get you that night?" Dean asked, dropping the blanket in the doorway to walk over to the servant door and check it for a latch. There was a flimsy wooden sliding bar lock to keep the door closed when Castiel didn't wish to be interrupted, but a well-placed knife in the door jamb would flip it out of the way easily. That confirmed his decision about where he was sleeping, then. He would have the locksmith in in the morning to fit something sturdier.

"What are you doing?" Castiel asked from the confines of his bed linens. His scent curled around Dean like a wandering vine and made it hard to concentrate.

Dean snapped the blanket open and draped it over the ground in front of the door that led to the hall, kneeling down to fold it in half to act as cushion. The stone floor was much harder than the soft dirt he was used to. "What does it look like? I'm getting ready to sleep."

"You plan on sleeping in here?"

"Where else would I sleep? I can't protect you if I'm not near you."

Castiel gathered a pile of blankets around himself, hugging them to his chest like a comfort token. He looked so very small in the middle of such a large bed. "It isn't proper for an alpha to sleep in the same room as an omega if they are not mated."

Dean huffed annoyance as he began stripping off his tunic. "If anyone tells you it's improper for a bodyguard to watch over his charge, they can talk to me," he said. His hands moved to untie the placard on his damnable trousers, but the silly little omega gasped as he did.

"Why are you undressing? This is most improper." When Dean looked back up, he found Castiel's face covered by his hands. Dean rolled his eyes.

"My senses are better in wolf form. I might hate these trousers, but the maids won't be pleased with me if I let them tear to shreds when I shift. Keep your eyes covered if you must. I'll let you know when I'm changed." He shed the trousers without another thought, and transformed into his wolf form, stretching his front paws out with a whine of pleasure. He shook out his back legs, loosening the muscles tight from too many hours standing in place. He could hear a few joints in his spine cracking as he stretched his tail high in the air.

The omega scent was much stronger with his wolf nose, and instinct had him turning to spy the little omega still bundled up under his covers. His hands slowly slid from his face as Dean snuffled and licked at a mat on his hind leg.

Castiel gasped again when he laid eyes on Dean, this time with wonder. He uncurled from the blankets and crawled to the end of the bed, eyes locked on Dean, big and undeniably blue as the sky on a beautiful day. "You're so big," he said, more an awed whisper than a normal voice.

Dean didn't mind the praise. He stood and circled around, stretching to show his thick chestnut coat off to full advantage. He wasn't preening exactly, but even he had to admit that his wolf form was impressive. He was nearly as tall in this form as he was as a man, much larger than the non-shifter variety. As little as he cared about his appearance in human form, he maintained a shiny, clean coat in wolf form.

He let Castiel look his fill for longer than he would admit to before stepping onto the blanket and nosing at it until it was in an acceptable position before curling up on it. He looked up at the bed to find Castiel still staring at him.

Castiel climbed off down slowly, eyes never leaving Dean. "May I?" he asked in a hushed whisper as he stepped closer on bare feet. Dean didn't move except for his eyes, tracking Castiel's progress closer. He had no idea what the little omega was up to, but he also didn't care. He felt comfortable for the first time all day. He wasn't moving.

Castiel must have taken his silence as consent because when he got close enough, he reached out to touch Dean's back. Dean's fur bristled under the touch for a moment before he settled again, resting his snout on his outstretched paws with a huff. If the prince wanted to pet him, he wasn't going to stop it. A good fur rub was a good fur rub, no matter who was doing it.

Castiel grew bolder when Dean didn't react, digging his fingers into the thick fur and scratching his blunt nails down Dean's neck, behind his ears, down his spine. It felt good. Too good. Dean could feel himself lulling into a doze, his breathing evening out for the moments before he realized what was happening.

He snapped his head up and barked a short, soft warning, snipping in Castiel's direction until he stood from his crouch and stepped several feet back. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken the liberty…" Castiel said, wrapping his arms around his stomach and curling in on himself.

Dean licked his lips and settled his snout back on his paws without trying for any kind of apology. He needed to stay alert, not let nimble hands lull him into a false sense of security. He was not here to be petted like a common domesticated animal. He was here to protect the prince and do his duty for his pack.

He watched the prince scramble back into bed, pulling the covers back over him and curling up in a ball on his side and felt only a modicum of regret for having snapped at him. A moment later Castiel reached over and snuffed out the candle without another word. The fire banked in the corner gave low light, flickering over Castiel's form under the white blankets. It was a long time before their rise and fall evened out in sleep. Dean followed a few minutes later.

 

 Ω

 

"I can't believe I'm going to war without you," Charlie told him over a shared mug of ale.

Dean took it from her and drank a long swallow, hoping to fortify himself for the weeks to come. "I can't believe I'm playing glorified pup sitter to a fickle omega. If he'd just mated one of the suitors who came when his presentation was announced, we wouldn't be in this situation."

His comment earned him a punch to the shoulder. "You are not blaming a fifteen-year-old pup for not wanting to hitch his wagon to the first knot who walked by. He's just a kid. None of this is his fault."

Dean shot her a look. "Kid, huh? Last I checked, you only cleared sixteen summers a few moons back."

"And you cleared seventeen three moons before that. You don't have much room to talk about pup sitting."

"Have you seen him? He's a tiny thing. And he sleeps on an enormous bed covered in enough blankets to keep our whole pack warm for years."

Charlie paused in bringing the ale to her lips to give him a hard stare. "You were in his bedchamber?"

"I slept in his doorway last night. The demons attempted to kidnap him while he was sleeping last time. I'm not risking them being too quiet for me to hear through a wall when they try again." Charlie did not look impressed with this answer. Dean rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. "It's not like I would have slept in the bed they gave me anyway. I don't like sleeping so high off the ground."

Charlie rolled her eyes. "You're so dramatic. There's nothing wrong with sleeping in a bed."

Jo plopped down between them on the ground and pulled the mug from Charlie's hand and drained it. "Beds were made by the gods to show us they love us. I thought I was sleeping on a cloud last night. It was glorious," she sighed, leaning her head on Dean's shoulder with a dreamy little smile.

Dean elbowed her to get her off him. "You're going to end up spoiled when we go back to the forest."

"Who says I'm going back. Maybe I'll find an angel to mate while I'm here."

Dean made a face at the very idea and snatched the ale from her. "You'd mate an angel just for a comfortable bed? What about your pack?"

Jo snorted. "The pack would be just fine whether I was with them or not. Maybe I'd like to go Prince Castiel's route, mate for love. It does sound nice to have a choice of one's own."

"Oh? The death of hundreds of soldiers is worth that choice? No one in our pack has ever had a choice, and no one has ever been unhappy with their mates." He lifted the mug to his mouth, but frowned when liquid did not touch his lips.

Charlie took the mug from his hand and poured more ale from the skin she'd snatched from Bobby, giving Dean a hard stare as she did. When it was full, she plugged the skin closed one-handed, but didn't drink from the mug. She continued to stare at him instead. Even Jo stayed quiet under her stare. When he started to squirm under her eyes, she finally handed the mug over. "I know you don't understand this because you've been betrothed to Lisa since you were a pup and never had a choice, but Prince Castiel has every right to choose his own mate if he wishes. It is not his fault that he presented as an omega, and it is not his fault that certain alphas think that affords them the right to take him against his will. You would not blame one of our omegas if they were taken against their will, would you?"

Dean growled low in his throat, feeling his gums tingle with the need to change at the mere thought of someone in their pack being taken. "I would rip any alpha who tried apart."

"I know you would. Why is this different?"

Dean came up short. Why was it different? Castiel wasn't pack, but he was still worthy of autonomy. "We shouldn't be going to war," he said. "This isn't our business. The angels wouldn't fight for us if our circumstances were reversed."

Jo nodded, pulling a pouch of pine nuts from her pocket and scooping a handful into her mouth. "He has a point."

Charlie shook her head. "Of course they would. We are a part of their kingdom. An attack on our pack is an attack on them as much as it would be on us."

Dean gave her a skeptical look and stole the mug. "They'd leave us to die and throw a feast for returned lands. We're nothing but animals to them, animals they can use."

"That isn't true. They've treated us with nothing but respect. They're offering our pack a protected place to stay while our warriors fight by their side. They didn't have to provide room in the palace for us. They could have left our weak in the forest, unprotected."

"We would not have fought for them if they had, and they knew it. They do nothing that does not benefit themselves first. This is no exception."

Charlie looked like she'd like to pick him up and shake him, but she only shook her head, shoulders tense. "I do not wish to fight on the eve of our parting. All I ask is that you give Castiel and the rest of the royal family the benefit of the doubt and do not judge them before you have come to know them."

Dean swirled a swig of ale around in his mouth as he considered this. He didn't want to fight with Charlie, either, but it was difficult to swallow his unhappiness at having to send his pack off to war for a prince who cared nothing for them. In the end, Charlie was right, of course. The last thing they needed on the eve of battle was a petty squabble. "I'll do my best," he tells her, handing the mug back in lieu of an apology.

"Thank you."

 

 Ω

 

Castiel didn't speak during breakfast. As they watched their families ride off to war, he stood silent witness, worry and sadness and so much guilt clogging his scent, surrounding him like a cloud. Dean had to breathe through his mouth so as not to choke on it. Charlie shot him several sharp looks from her place next to Benny as they awaited the signal to depart. Dean ignored her looks and kept his focus on his father, on doing his duty.

When King Charles and High Alpha Winchester led their combined armies away to war, the remaining palace residents stood in silence for a long while before they too dispersed to their daily tasks. Dean watched his packmates wander off to their quarters to start whatever day they had planned for themselves, longing to join them, to run after his father and his warriors and take his rightful place in the fight. Instead, he turned and followed Castiel silently inside.

The smell of dust and decaying animal fat hit him as soon as he stepped into the library behind Castiel. He wrinkled his nose without meaning to and made a grumbling sound deep in his throat.

Castiel turned to look at him, eyebrow raised. "You don't like to read?" he asked, quiet and vaguely mocking.

Dean glared. "It smells disgusting in here," he says.

"You needn't stay. I wouldn't want to insult your delicate sensibilities." Definitely mocking. Castiel wandered away without waiting for his answer. Dean had little to say. If Castiel intended to stay in this musty room, then he would have to learn to tolerate it.

He had no idea they would be spending so much time in the space. If Castiel didn't do so much reading, Dean would have believed he was only spending his days in the library to torture Dean's senses. Dean spent the next three days with a constant headache.

Sam wandered in the fifth day, tense and wide-eyed, clearly worried that he would be told he was not permitted access to the royal family's personal library. Castiel paused in putting a book back in its place to turn at Sam's noise. He smiled at Sam, a welcoming smile that Dean hadn't seen since the first night when Castiel scrambled from his bed, excited to pet Dean's wolf form.

"Good morning," Castiel greeted him. They were of a height, though Sam was two years Castiel's junior. "Samuel, isn't it? Dean is skulking in the corner if you've come to see him."

Sam darted a nervous look at his brother and shook his head. "I was… hoping to read? Uncle Bobby usually teaches our lessons, but he's off on the front line, and I… I didn't want to get behind. Raphael said I could use the library to study."

Of course Sammy would want to keep up with his studies. Jo might joke about finding an angel to marry so she could stay in 'civilized society', but Sam was the person he was most concerned about leaving the pack. Sam had never shown any interest in remaining in the forest. He wanted to study with the high council and become a court mage, and Dean had always been aware that no amount of protestation from him or their father could dissuade his brother from his ambitions. He had heard countless arguments between Uncle Bobby and their dad about encouraging him.

Unlike Dean, Castiel looked pleased to hear the request. "Of course. You may use the library whenever you like. Your brother may not enjoy himself here, but I would enjoy a reading companion. Make yourself at home." He swept a hand around the room, indicating that Sam could take his pick. Dean might not have liked the situation, but the quick acceptance of his brother into Castiel's space made a tiny part of Dean's heart warm. He rubbed at it with a scowl and skulked off to find a window to open.

 

 Ω

 

> 3rd Moon of the Forest Two-Hundred and Thirty-Eight,
> 
> Dean,
> 
> We have arrived at the border of Atreus this morning to little fanfare. I know not if the attempt on the young Prince was a desperate act of a dwindling nation or if we are walking into a trap, but there was no patrol to greet us. Perhaps Crowley did not think the angels would be bold enough to attempt retaliation. They do not have the reputation of blood sport of late, though Grandfather Joseph told many the tale of their prowess on the battlefield of old.
> 
> I do not know what this campaign shall bring to our doorstep, but I do worry for the pack we have left behind. I trust you are taking care to ensure the young ones continue their education and that the elders are situated comfortably. I need not ask after the safety of Prince Castiel. I know you will do your duty.
> 
> I look forward to your swift reply,
> 
> Your Father
> 
> High Alpha John Winchester

 

Ω

"I'm going to spend the afternoon in the library if you want to visit with your pack," Castiel told him before tipping a spoonful of soup into his mouth with a graceful tilt of his wrist.

"Ellen stopped by my room while you were bathing. They're doing well," Dean said, trying to look away from Castiel's movements as he ate, but failing. It was becoming difficult for him to keep his eyes off his charge, and not because he was worried for Castiel's safety.

"I thought you might like to spend time with them. Don't you participate in pack bonding exercises? I would have thought them more important than ever with half the pack away at war."

The reminder that his pack—his family—was likely actively fighting a battle as they dined on rich stew with silver flatware on hand-painted porcelain dishes was a painful one, made all the more so after having spent a portion of his morning reading his father's and Charlie's letters. His only solace was that his brother had been deemed too young to go to war. "I can't do my duty if I spend most of my time away from you."

"You needn't be my shadow. There are guards stationed all over the palace. No come will come for me in the library."

Dean tore a heel of bread in two, then picked apart one half until a pile of torn crust lay on the plate around his bowl, a scowl twisting his mouth. "You know, I wouldn't have to act as your shadow if you'd just take a mate. I'm sure you had a dozen suitors more preferable than Crowley."

Castiel clenched his jaw, ladling soup onto his spoon and letting it drop back into the bowl several times without tasting it. "I do not wish to mate simply to have it over with. I want to be in love."

Dean snorted into his own soup, not caring about the loud sounds of his slurping. Members of the Winchester pack paired off at the wish of the elder counsel and the High Alpha. Dean's father and the other elders looked at the wolves who were of an age and decided who had the most compatible qualities, and that was the end of that. Love had nothing to do with it. "How romantic of you," he murmured, not trying to hide the mocking from his voice. The notion was ridiculous.

"Maybe so, but I am not about to settle for the first knot to offer themself to me."

"And meanwhile your country goes to war over you."

Castiel's spoon clattered loudly to his plate, stew spraying in an arc around his bowl. "Thank you for the reminder that I am the cause of death of yet unknown numbers of soldiers serving my kingdom. It is not my fault that Crowley wishes to have me for his mate. I am not going to play the sacrificial lamb because he believes he can use me to his advantage. Even if I wished to mate him, he would only use me to manipulate my father. The result could be far more catastrophic than the current situation."

He stood with a loud scrape of his chair against the hard wood floors. "I think I will retire to the library. I am no longer hungry." He turned and swept from the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Dean watched him with a pit of regret gathering in his belly. Castiel hadn't deserved his chastisement. Dean had promised Charlie that he would give the young Prince the benefit of the doubt before judging him, but he hadn't made good on that promise. As romantic and foreign a concept as mating by choice was to him, Castiel didn't deserve to be made to feel guilty for wanting it. Dean wasn’t being fair. He let his dissatisfaction with his current lot and his discomfort with life in the palace get the better of him. He shouldn't have taken out the frustration on Castiel. Castiel who has been nothing but kind in all his interactions with Dean's pack, if not when Dean himself. And even that was a lie. Dean had never given Castiel reason to treat him with kindness. He had approached their first meeting with scorn and disinterest and had never allowed Castiel to be anything but an enemy to be tolerated. Charlie would be ashamed of him.

His mother would be ashamed of him.

He stood, leaving his meal unfinished, and went in search of Castiel. He found him in the library as promised, guards standing on either side of the door. Neither of the guards gave him a second glance. He knew Sam was in the room as well as soon as he stepped inside, as were the princesses, Princess Hannah's little dog already jumping up from its place at her feet to trot over and sniff him. In the weeks he’d been at the palace, he’d learned to tolerate the curious little creature. He gave the dog a quick pet and nodded to the two princesses, both leant over the same book, giggling about something.

He passed Sammy in a high-backed chair with a tomb almost as large as he was in his lap. He ruffled Sam's hair in greeting as he passed and earned himself a scowl from his little brother, but no words.

Castiel was in his usual chair in the back corner, his legs pulled up to his chest and tears in his eyes. Dean was suddenly reminded of how very young Castiel was, barely fifteen winters, and still too small to have reached his first real growth spurt. If his brothers were any indication, he would be of Dean's height before he reached majority, if his omega hormones didn't suppress his growth. Dean could only imagine what a sight he would be then.

Castiel looked up at Dean's approach and quickly wiped at his eyes, his scowl back in place. "I thought I made it clear that I do not need your services this afternoon."

Dean ignored the protest and slipped to his knees at Castiel's feet, keeping his voice low so as not to be overheard. "I apologize. I was wrong to blame the war on you. It is not your fault that Crowley does not take rejection well."

Castiel didn’t answer for a long moment, staring at Dean with watery eyes that are prettier than they have any business being. "It is my fault, though. You're not wrong."

"I was wrong. If you wish to make your own choice, no one should take that from you. I wouldn't want to be taken against my will. I shouldn't fault you for not wishing the same fate for yourself."

Castiel pulled his legs closer to his chest, but said nothing. Dean remained as he was, waiting. In the quiet between them, the sound of tiny nails scratching against the polished wooden floors reached their ears. A moment later, Princess Hannah's dog rounded the corner and trotted over to them, snuffling around Dean's legs until it sat on its haunches at his knee, looking up at him as if waiting for attention. Dean reached out and petted its fluffy head.

"Thank you," Castiel murmured. Dean looked back up to see him watching Dean's hand stroke over the dog's head. Dean nodded acknowledgment, worried that any further words on his part might break what fragile peace had just been created. Castiel pulled a book onto his lap and began to read. Dean settled into a more comfortable position at his feet, and the dog climbed into his lap. He buried a hand in its fur and disappeared in his own thoughts.

Not long after, a book was dangled in his face, a thin volume of soft green leather with an indent of a wolf on the cover. "What's this?"

"A book," Castiel told him with a smirk. Dean accepted it with a roll of his eyes and flipped the book over, but the back gave him no more clue to its contents than the front had. "It's a memoir written by a previous alpha of your pack, Cain, I believe his name was. It chronicles your pack's arrival in the Dark Forest. I thought it might interest you."

Not sure what else to say, Dean opened the book to peer at the inside. Reading had never been a priority of his, but he had heard tales of Cain before. If this really was an account written by him, it could be of interest. "Thank you," he said. Dean settled back against the chair leg and turned his attention to the book.

When Sam wandered by an hour later, he didn't mention anything about Dean sitting at Castiel's feet. Instead, he dropped a pillow to the floor next to Dean and curled up next to him with a book of his own. The familiar scent of his brother pressed so close was more than a comfort to the restless feeling that had been shifting inside Dean all day. None of them moved for the rest of the afternoon.

 

Ω

 

> 4th Moon of the Forest Two-Hundred and Thirty-Eight,
> 
> Father,
> 
> I trust if the demons have attempted to trap our warriors that you shall overcome whatever trickery they intend. Their attempt on the prince was not a work of vision. Castiel himself was able to throw them off, and he is but a boy, well-trained in combat, but not particularly large of frame or difficult to throw off in hand-to-hand combat.
> 
> The pack fairs well. If Jo has her way, she may never return to the forest. I fear the same may be true of Sam, as he has become quite enamored of the Novak library. The servants murmur of Ellen's take-over of the palace kitchens. It appears she was not pleased with the previous cook's organization skills, or lack thereof as she tells it. The pups' education goes well. Steward Raphael has permitted them to attend lessons with the palace children, and they already show signs of improvement for it.
> 
> I have taken to sleeping at the door of Prince Castiel's room. No intruder will reach him now.
> 
> Good hunting,
> 
> Dean

 

Ω

 

Dean's blanket was folded neatly on the sideboard when he went to fetch it, too neatly to have been placed there by him. He knew before he picked it up that it had been tampered with. It smelt of lye and well water. Wrong. All wrong.

"Did the servants wash my blanket?" he asked, turning to spy Castiel curled up in his large bed, a book on his knees.

"I should hope so. It was beginning to smell of wet dog."

Dean glared at him. "It smelled like pack. I gave it to Sam the other day to have the puppies nap on it. Now it just smells like soap."

"The puppies?" Castiel's brow furrowed, and he shifted his book down his lap to give Dean his full attention.

"The pups." Castiel's confusion didn't clear. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and took a breath, still frustrated that his blanket no longer smelled of his family. "The children of our pack. I don't… wolves are social. We like being surrounded by our pack. I like sleeping in their scents."

Castiel tilted his head to the side, a tiny smile forming. Dean couldn't tell if it was meant to be mocking or fond. "You miss your pack," he said.

Dean glowered, not interested in giving that thought an answer. He snapped the blanket open and folded it to his liking in front of the door and turned to undress without another word. The smell was stronger in wolf form, chemical and unnatural. It made him want to gag. There was little chance he would be sleeping that night.

A few moments after he settled, shuffling from the bed alerted him to Castiel, who was slipping from his covers and cautiously stepping forward. "If I come near you, will you snap at me again?"

Not sure what he was about, Dean licked his lips and dropped his snout onto his paws. He was aware he was pouting, but didn't care much. A few moments later, a hand stroked down his spine, fingers digging deep into his fur. Castiel knelt next to him, adjusted himself until he was sitting curled up on the blanket in the crook of Dean's legs. He fit surprisingly well in the circle of Dean's body. Dean would never admit how comforting his scent was.

"I'm sorry I allowed the maids to wash your blanket. I had no idea the smell was related to pack bonding. I won't allow them to wash it again." He continued to pet Dean, scratching behind his ears, leaning his warm body against Dean. "I know you are sacrificing time with your pack to guard me. Thank you. I wish it were not necessary."

Dean snuffled at Castiel's sleep trousers and rested his snout on Castiel's knee in acknowledgment of the apology. It wasn't as though it were Castiel's fault. None of this was truly his fault.

He fell asleep not long after. When he awoke in the morning, Castiel is still curled up with him, his sleeping head rest on his arms crossed over Dean's ribs. It wasn't the worst way to awaken.

 

 

Ω 

 

> 7th Moon of the Forest Two-Hundred and Thirty-Eight,
> 
> Dean,
> 
> The demons prove themselves to be fierce warriors, but no match for our people. They rely too much on trickery and sleight of hand to overcome their opponents. It is no match for our brute force or the skill with a blade the angels possess. Watching Prince Michael wield a sword is truly a sight to witness. You would enjoy the swordsmanship.
> 
> We have reached the walls that surround the capital city. They are taller than I anticipated, too tall for even Benjamin to scale. I suspect a magical origin. We intend to surround the city and cut off their supply chain, but from what information we have been able to obtain, the city is well-stocked for siege. It is likely to be a lengthy wait. King Charles is a patient man, but our wolves grow restless to return to the pack. I will need to find a way to keep them focused.
> 
> I am glad to hear of the pups' improvement. Sam has already begun to insist that he attend higher educational pursuits. I expect that is the doing of the Novak library. We will discuss the possibilities when I return from campaign. In the meantime, I expect you to keep an eye on him.
> 
> I expect you have taken advantage of the bed you've been given by now. Stone floors are no way to sleep, son. You should think of the prince's reputation. What alpha wishes to mate an omega who allows another alpha to sleep at his feet?
> 
> Your Father,
> 
> High Alpha John Winchester
> 
>  

Ω

 

"I thought we might go for a walk in the gardens after lunch, perhaps convince the tutor to allow us to bring the pups with us? I'm sure they would enjoy an afternoon in the sunshine," Castiel suggested as he forked at his lettuce with a delicate hand.

Dean was disappointed that even months of eating across a table from an uncultured wolf had not influenced Castiel's table manners. He appreciated the thoughtful inclusion of Dean's pack in Castiel's day and told Castiel so. "I think they would like that very much. Thank you."

The smile he received in return was as warm as the summer sunshine. Castiel's smile was something he found himself seeking more and more as they grew closer, as much as he fought the urges. But even as he quietly cheered the sight, something tight and painful clenched in his stomach. He winced, frowning at the sensation. A moment later another, strong cramp took over, this one causing him to curl in on himself to try to quell the sharp pain. He could feel sweat begin beading on his forehead and gripped the edge of the table to try to catch his breath.

Vaguely, he could hear Castiel calling his name, the sound of swift movement. Hands were on him, pulling his chair out, turning him to face Castiel. His vision had turned blurry, Castiel's worried face swimming into view as if through murky water. Another cramp twisted his stomach, and he fell from the chair, hitting the stone floor hard. A hand caught his head before it could hit the floor, soft and small. The last thing he heard before blacking out was the sound of Castiel's voice yelling his name.

 

Ω

 

Dean woke groggy and in pain to the sight of a painting high above his head of flowers larger than his chest in a wild garden, fist-sized honeybees resting on a few of the petals. He was stretched out on an impossibly soft surface, thick blankets draped over his prone form. He tried sitting up, but his head ached as soon as he tried to lift it off the pillow. Pillow? He was in a bed, he realized. The last thing he remembered was eating lunch with Castiel and his sisters.

"You're awake? Oh, thank the Maker," a voice said near his shoulder. Dean turned his head enough to find Castiel crawling up onto the bed with him, brow furrowed in worry. He brushed a warm hand over Dean's forehead, pushing the sweaty hair off his face. "How are you feeling?"

"Head hurts..." Dean mutters, pushing against Castiel's hand, the touch soothing to his throbbing brain.

"Just rest. The potion still needs to work through your system, I think."

"What happened?" Dean rasped. His throat felt raw, scratched up, like he'd been vomiting uncontrollably for hours.

"Try not to talk for a while, hmm? I imagine your throat feels less than comfortable at the moment, given that I had to induce vomiting to ensure as much of the poison left your system as quickly as possible." Castiel twisted around to collect a wet cloth that must have been soaking in the basin on the bedside table. When he turned back to Dean, he brought the cloth to Dean's forehead and wiped the dried sweat off his skin.

"Poison?"

"Mmm, apparently Crowley thought it would be easier to get to me if he had a spy kill you first. Someone slipped wolfsbane into your meal. The guards are determining who the culprit is now."

Dean growled despite the pain and shifted closer to Castiel's soothing scent, dropping a hand onto his knee without considering the impropriety of it. "Meg… New kitchen girl… Ellen says… watches us," he says, wincing at the painful scratch of his vocal chords. He could already feel his body healing itself, but with wolfsbane poisoning, the process was slower than it should be.

Castiel frowned. "Are you sure? Meg's always been nice to me in her own way, dropping treats off in the library when we've been there for too long."

"Only brings the treats to you. Doesn't like me at all. Ellen said she isn't enamored of werewolves," Dean said, the rasp slowly receding. He tried to sit up again, but the throbbing in his head is still there. He ended up flopping his head into Castiel's lap instead and curling up, not caring what it might look like. He wanted a familiar scent near, warm and sweet and perfect. He sighed and closed his eyes, willing his body to heal. Castiel only combed fingers through his hair and said nothing.

A soft knock on the door interrupted the quiet between them. Castiel called permission to enter, not bothering to move away from Dean as the door creaked open. Sammy stepped through, Jo behind him, both of them tense and smelling of worry. "Hey Sammy," Dean rasped, lifting a hand in greeting, but not picking up his head.

"You're awake?" Sam asked, rushing over to the bed and climbing onto it without regard of Castiel. He threw himself at Dean, draping himself over Dean's twisted body and hugging him tight. "We were so worried."

Dean reached up as best he could to wrap an arm around his brother's shoulders. Before he could reply, there was another body piled on top of him, Jo, clinging just as hard. Within moments, there were more bodies, a whole group of them. Dean lifted his head from Castiel's thigh to find half of the pack’s puppies in Castiel's bed, piled on top of Dean like the thickest warm blanket. They must have been hovering by the door, waiting to see what Dean's status was. The room was suddenly much nosier with all their questions and assurances that they were worried and missed him and were glad he was better. Dean was too exhausted to complain. He flopped his head back on Castiel's thigh and let it happen. When he glanced up at Castiel, his smile was nothing but fond. It warmed Dean's heart.

 

Ω

 

> 4th Moon of the Year of the Forest Two-Hundred and Thirty-Nine,
> 
> Father,
> 
> I hope the siege fairs well. There has been a development at the palace. A demon infiltrated the kitchen staff and poisoned my food with wolfsbane. You may thank Castiel for the quick thinking to induce vomiting, otherwise I would not be alive to write this letter. He saved my life and supervised my recovery. I have returned to full health, but it was several days of convalescence.
> 
> Ellen was able to discover the spy, a demon named Meg. I executed her this morning in the traditional ceremony. Castiel was not pleased with the bloodshed, but did not look away as the deed was done. I believe you would have admired his fortitude. The princesses did not attend.
> 
> Good hunting,
> 
> Dean

 

Ω

 

Dean was engrossed in a tale of the Dragon Princess Francesca and her epic journey to obtain the Sacred Stone of Healing, used to save her people from a devastating plague. Castiel had recommended it to him, and he was enjoying it immensely. Not that he intended to let anything to that affect reach Castiel.

In the months since he first came to the palace, he had grown accustomed to spending long days in the quiet of the library, the only noises interrupting their solitude the turning of pages, the occasional shuffling of books and papers as Castiel looked for a tomb he wished to read, and the scratch of a quill as Castiel took notes. It was easy to get lost in the books and forget one's surroundings. Which was why it took a minute for Dean to register the quiet footsteps heading towards the corner that housed Castiel's favorite chair.

Dean set the book down and got to his feet swiftly and silently and followed the footsteps on bare feet. What he found boiled his blood. Two demons approached Castiel, dressed in the plain clothing of palace servants. Dean recognized one of them from the kitchens, a woman named Ruby who had been working under Ellen for nearly the entire time the pack had been at the palace. Both had weapons drawn as they crept closer to Castiel, folded up in his large armchair with a large tomb hiding all but the mess of black hair atop his head. The one Dean didn't recognize held a black rough-cloth sack in his other hand, clearly meant to go over Castiel's head and muffle his screams. Dean crouched closer, waiting for them to move, confirm his suspicions as to their motives.

Castiel looked up over the top of his book at the creak of a floorboard and froze, eyes widening as he took in the kidnappers. He moved slowly to close the book, his muscles tensing with the movement. His eyes flicked beyond the two demons to Dean, hunched behind them and half-way to turning. The kitchen spy turned to look and cursed under her breath. Her partner lunged for Castiel.

Dean was on him before he could make it, claws buried in the meat of his thighs. He was fully turned in the blink of an eye and pulling the demon to the ground, snarling and snapping his jaws as the demon attempted to stab him with his dagger. Dean lost sight of himself, let his wolf take over. He tasted blood, bitter and panicked, but oh so satisfying down his throat.

His little omega cried out, and he looked up in time to see the other attacker reaching for his mate, attempting to pull the omega out of his chair. The wolf growled and pounced, dragging the woman away from his mate with teeth embedded in the back of her calf. She screeched in pain and twisted around to try to kick him off her, but he held fast, using his front claws to rip at her belly, pulling her closer to him. He tasted her blood, too, scared and pulsing hard as her body fought to keep her alive. He kept his jaws clamped tight around her throat until her convulsing slowed and stopped.

When both threats were taken care of, Dean looked up to find Castiel standing on shaking legs, blood splattered up the front of his clothing all the way to his chest, his eyes wide and blue as the ocean, fixed on Dean. Dean snuffled closer, stepping over the bodies without thought to check his mate for injuries. When he found none, he turned to patrol the room to make sure there were no more threats lurking to hurt his omega.

He returned to his little omega a few moments later, satisfied that they were safe for the moment. Castiel hadn't moved. He didn't even blink as Dean shifted back into his human form.

Dean stood with his back to the door, covered in blood and chest heaving from exertion, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Cas stood opposite him, staring at the carnage that lay between them with a look of horror on his beautiful face. The door opened behind them, and Dean scented two guards in full armor, the tang of the steel sharp on his tongue.

Castiel squared his shoulders, his eyes meeting Dean's as he spoke to the guards behind Dean. "It would appear Alpha Winchester has damaged his trousers. Would one of you mind terribly sending for a servant to fetch a new pair for him?" His eyes did not travel south.

Dean only didn't roll his eyes at the priorities because the blood was too fresh in his senses. Every hair on his body was raised. He heard one of the guards step back out the door. A few silent moments later, a young-smelling servant entered the room. He stopped dead at the sight of the mutilated bodies.

Castiel stepped around them with the same calm certainty he would walk around an errant bush and brushed past Dean without a glance. "Thank you. We also require assistance in taking care of the situation at hand, as you can see."

The boy ran out as quickly as he had entered, the smell of bile following him out. Dean wouldn't be surprised if the boy stopped off somewhere to vomit first. Weak. A pair of folded linens were thrust over his shoulder. Dean looked down at his naked body, unsure if it was a good idea to accept them or if Castiel would be more upset about the blood getting on the linen than he was with Dean in tattered rags. "Can you cover yourself, please? I mean to yell at you, and I cannot do so when you are unclothed."

It was enough to stop Dean from caring whether or not he bloodied the cloth. He snatched the trousers from Cas' hand and snapped them open as he shimmied out of the shredded remains of his former clothing. He quickly pulled the trousers on and turned around to glare at his charge. "You want to yell at me, huh? For what? Saving your life?"

Cas crossed his arms over his chest. "Leave us," he said, not breaking eye contact with Dean as the two guards made a quick retreat. The bodies were beginning to smell unpleasant, but Dean didn't argue the point.

"You did not need to kill them both. How are we to know whether or not they came from Crowley?" Castiel asked once the guards were on the other side of the library door.

Dean growled, clenching his fists so tightly closed that his short nails dug into his palms and left thin, crescent-shaped wounds on his hands. "Who else would they be working for?"

"There could be kidnappers from any of a dozen kingdoms. We cannot assume Crowley is the only ruler interested in forcing an alliance with my father. You've blown our only chance at finding out by killing them."

Dean could feel the tension building in his neck, but he was too angry to have a hope of his muscles relaxing. He clenched his jaw to keep a second growl down. "Before they could get to you, you idiot," he snapped. "Would you rather I had left them to their task? Want a burlap sack over your head and a lifetime in the bed of an alpha three times your age, do you?"

"Of course not, but you didn't need to kill them to stop them from kidnapping me. You could have maimed them."

"THEY WERE TRYING TO HURT YOU," Dean shouted, unable to hold back his frustration and rage any further. He was already furious with the would-be kidnappers. He didn't need arguments from Cas on top of it.

"AND YOU COULD HAVE STOPPED THEM WITHOUT KILLING THEM," Cas shouted back. They were in each other's personal space now, chest-to-chest, glaring hard.

"NO, I COULDN'T!"

"WHY NOT?!"

"NO ONE TOUCHES WHAT'S MINE!" Dean regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.

Cas' anger fell away, but he didn't step back. Instead, he cocked his head to the side with that curious look of his that always made Dean want to kiss him. "I'm yours, am I?"

Dean's own hackles settled, just a little. The frustrated tension was replaced by a nervousness that was new to him. "If you want to be."

"I thought I was supposed to 'find a knothead and settle down already'."

Dean huffed a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down to the floor. His feet were sticky with blood, but he didn't much care. "I’ve been insufferable. You should be able to mate whomever you wish to mate."

"But you'd like that alpha to be you?" Castiel teased, his fingers creeping up to grip the torn fabric of Dean's destroyed tunic. Dean met his eyes again just before their lips met, a happy little sound bubbling up between them. Dean wasn't sure the sound didn't come from him, but it didn't matter, because Cas' lips were warm and so soft against his. He wrapped his arms around Cas' waist and pulled him close, not caring about getting blood on his fancy clothes.

When they pulled away a few moments later, it was to the noise of the door opening again and heavy footsteps of soldiers entering, followed by the shocked gasps of the servants behind them. Dean looked over his shoulder to find the guards with their hands on the hilts of their swords, standing on either side of the doorway at the ready, and the servants carrying buckets of water and rags and shocked expressions at having found their prince kissing his bodyguard, both of them covered in blood, two mangled bodies at their feet.

Castiel cleared his throat with a sharp nod to the servants. "As you can see, there has been another attempt on my person. If you would be so kind as to dispose of the bodies and clean the area, I would greatly appreciate it. Dean and I will be informing Raphael of the breach. What you just saw does not leave this room. Understood?"

The servants snapped to action, nodding quickly in obedience and hurrying to begin taking care of the problem. Castiel glanced at Dean with a loaded look Dean couldn't read and moved towards the door. Dean followed without a word. The soldiers followed behind them, their heavy boots echoing down the hallway behind them like a noisy shadow.

"I think we should perhaps keep our… discussion to ourselves for the time being. Until we've had time to decide what we really want?" Castiel glanced again at Dean, and again Dean could not determine his expression.

"I don't need time to think. I know what I want. You can do what you like, obviously, but my mind and body have already decided."

Castiel looked flustered at this declaration, but he didn't halt his steps. "We should both get cleaned up, and then we can discuss this further. We will also need to speak with the Steward. Doubtless, news of the incident has already reached him, but he will want to hear a personal account."

"As you wish, Highness," Dean agreed, squaring his shoulders as they reached the door to his quarters. Castiel gave him a significant look over his shoulder before disappearing behind his own door. Dean didn't like the idea of separating, but he knew Castiel would never let him in the room while he bathed. Not unless they were mated. And that… was perhaps more likely than he had originally anticipated.

He walked inside his own quarters to wash the blood off. Castiel was right. Steward Raphael would want an account. Talking could wait.

 

Ω

 

They were in the garden when Steward Raphael found them, softly swaying on a swing hanging from Castiel's favorite tree. Castiel's head rested on Dean's lap as Dean rocked them with his foot, Castiel reading a book while Dean watched him. The palace had breathed a sigh of relief when the steward received the missive announcing that the war had been won and the armies would be returning home, and they had been able to spend their time relaxed, no longer worried about assassination or kidnapping.

"Your Highness, the scout has reached the gates. The party shall be arriving within the hour," Raphael told Castiel, his eyes on Dean's hand in Castiel's hair.

Cas looked up from his book with a wide smile and sat up, turning to Dean and kissing his cheek. "We should change, then. Our warriors should receive a proper homecoming, don't you think?"

Dean looked down at his simple cotton tunic with a grimace. A proper homecoming meant armor. "Can I greet them shifted?"

"No."

There was no arguing with that tone, Dean had learned that early in their relationship. He climbed off the swing with Cas and followed him into the castle, nervous butterflies suddenly filling up his stomach with every step. Cas had assured him that the king would approve of their mating, but Dean didn't know what his own father was going to say. He had been betrothed to Lisa since they were pups, a decision his father had made himself. He often spoke of the strong pups they would have, and what a good pack mother Lisa would make when Dean took over his duties as High Alpha. It had never occurred to Dean that he might take another path. Lisa was kind and beautiful and strong, everything a wolf could ask for in a mate. But Castiel made his heart pound and his senses come alive with the urge to protect and cherish. Once the thought of having Castiel as his omega entered his mind, his wolf would accept no substitutes.

Lisa had given him her blessing when he came to her to ask to break off their agreement. She didn't seem to mind the change in plan one way or another, which wasn't surprising. They had always been friends, but never close, never as connected as Dean felt from the moment he looked at Castiel. But would his father understand? Could he?

It was Castiel's hand curling around the hem of his leather tunic that settled his heartbeat as they stood on the steps of the palace to greet the conquering force. Cas pressed his back to Dean's chest, grounding him and keeping them connected even as they stood at attention.

The gates of the palace walls opened to a procession of horses, the king astride the foremost stead in full, gleaming armor, a grin on his face that did not fade as he caught sight of his son pressed so close to his guard. High Alpha Winchester walked next to him, his own leather armor brushed smooth. He looked clean, which must have meant they stopped to clean the dust of travel off before arriving at the palace. The procession painted quite the picture of victory. Dean felt a pang of regret for having not joined them, but it quickly melted away as Castiel's hand reached back to link with his.

King Charles dismounted as they reached the steps and approached the line of them with a warm smile. "We bring good tidings of an enemy captured," he greeted them, waving his hand to indicate a barred carriage driven by Benny. Inside, Dean could just spy a slumped figure he could only assume was Crowley.

"We are pleased to have you home safe, Your Majesty," Steward Raphael told him, bowing low.

Charles bowed his own head in acknowledgment, but his eyes were trained on his youngest son. He walked over, the smile melting from his face as he approached Castiel. His glance flicked up to Dean for a fraction of a second before fixing back on Castiel. "You are safe to choose as you wish, my child. We have captured him who would take you against your will and will do with him as you see fit."

Dean couldn't see his expression, but Castiel's shoulders stiffened. "And you're certain you have the culprit?"

"Yes. His study contained many letters that served as proof. He attempted to have the evidence burned, but John was able to subdue him before he could succeed."

"He's lucky I didn't rip his head off," John growled as he approached, his expression matching his tone.

"I'm pleased to see you in good health, Dean. Your pack was quite concerned when your father received news of your attempted poisoning," Charles said, turning his attention to Dean. Dean swallowed, but Castiel squeezed his fingers to lend his strength.

"I am fully recovered, thanks to Castiel's quick thinking."

"Indeed." Charles's eyes dropped to their clutched hands, half-hidden behind Castiel's back. For a tense moment, Dean thought he might lash out, inform the two of them that Dean was below Castiel's station and should let his son go as quickly as possible or face execution. And then the most amazing thing happened. Charles smiled. Wide and delighted and as enchanting as any of Castiel's siblings, if not quite as enchanting as Castiel's own. "It appears more congratulations are soon to be in order, does it not, John?" Charles turned to look at Dean's father, whose own expression was as unreadable as ever.

"It would," John said, looking at his own son.

"Is that… alright?" Castiel asked, voice small and hesitant.

Charles studied them. "Do you make each other happy?"

"We do," Cas answered, turning to smile up at Dean.

"Then, you have my blessing. John?"

John gave Dean a hard look. "Have you spoken with Lisa?"

"I have," Dean answered, squaring his shoulders, but not letting go of Cas' hand.

His expression softens a fraction. "Then, you have my blessing as well."

Relief swept over Dean, and he grinned down at Cas, who was looking up at him again. He leaned up on his toes to press his lips against Dean's in a chaste kiss. Dean cupped his face in his hands and kissed him back, happy in the knowledge that he would be able to have his omega, safe and all his for as long as Cas will have him.

 

**TEN YEARS LATER**

Heavy with pups, Castiel hadn't been able to do much more than climb out of their furs for several weeks as his belly expanded out to accommodate their growing children. Ellen told them the delivery could be any day, and even though it was their second pregnancy, Dean was still inordinately nervous. He found himself hovering more than usual, territorial in a way that he had no right to be. Being the High Alpha's mate meant that the pack had as much right to seek out Castiel's attention as they did Dean's. It wasn't unusual to find half a dozen packmates curled up in their furs with Castiel, sewing clothing, going over lessons, all curled up together as Cas read aloud.

This was the scene he walked into when he came looking for his mate after a morning hunt: Cas propped up with pillows on a mountain of furs with their toddler, Emma, in his lap, and Charlie, Garth, and Lisa curled up around him along with half the pack's pups, listening to him read from an illustrated compilation of fairy tales that Dean had gifted him at his last naming day celebration.

Emma crawled out of her daddy's lap to jump at Dean, shouting, "Papa! Daddy's reading us the one about the wolf and the angel."

"That's your favorite," Dean said, reaching down to pick her up. Charlie shifted over to give him room to sit up close next Cas. He deposited their daughter back in Cas' lap with a peck to Cas' lips. Emma promptly gravitated back into Dean's lap and curled up. Dean petted her soft brown hair and slipped his other arm around his mate, pulling him close. Cas kissed the underside of his chin and went back to reading aloud, his head laid against Dean's chest.

Much later as they curled up under their furs, their pup between them and Dean's hand resting over Cas' belly, one of the babies gently kicking at his palm, Dean leaned over their daughter's head to kiss Cas properly. "They're going to be here soon, huh?" he said when he pulled back.

Cas nodded, glancing down at Dean's hand on his belly. "Any day now."

"I can't wait to meet them."

"Mmm, me either." Cas rested his hand over Dean's and gently nudged it higher up towards a second kicking, and that same tingle of excitement rolled through Dean at the reminder of the second pair of feet.

"I love you," he whispered, leaning forward again for another kiss.

Cas smiled. "I love you, too."

**Author's Note:**

> If you want writing updates from me, you can follow me on Twitter [@RonsPigwidgeon](https://twitter.com/RonsPigwidgeon) or Tumblr at [MsCaptainWinchester](https://mscaptainwinchester.tumblr.com/).


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